Future Family
My sweet love, what a beautiful future
we have birthed!
Its eyes share that same soothing gaze you give me
when you see my cracks coming to the surface and becomes
a place of peace I call home.
Its voice will speak at a patient pace, unlike its
Ancestors ahead of it that pose questions like
interrogations and keep compliments behind
padlocked lips.
Its parental guardians are still misguided
children themselves, stumbling through
adulthood like toddlers with wide eyes and
afraid of the monsters under our beds.
But we will raise it like us two were a
village, using our familial fractures to
position patches where we were pain’d so
our future will never feel what we have
fought against.
My sweet love, what a beautiful future
we have birthed, and I cannot wait to
raise ourselves up with it.
Vegetables
I have tried on several occasions to find
meaning in my late grandfather’s garden
but all I seem to find are
vegetables.
Multiple times I have gotten my jean-cloaked
knees damp from the soil, pulled the weary and worn
gloves over my hands, and have broken the
earth with a trowel made of
mystery and frustration.
My arms plummeted beyond the
surface in hope of grasping some
answers and explanations,
but my consolation prizes were
onions and rhubarb.
I have pushed past the worms on a quest to bring some
closure back to the land of the living, but I
came back carrying some less-than-handsome
brussel sprouts.
I have even gone so far as to submerge my
entire being beyond the fertilizer to discover an
underground kingdom of clarity and assurance, but
when I arrived the walls were covered in
cucumbers.
Oh well, at least I have fresh vegetables.
RRCC 